


The Canary

by JacarandaBanyan



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Deidara being Deidara, Flashbacks, M/M, Sasori has emotions, Sasori making poorly-thought-out life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6357079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacarandaBanyan/pseuds/JacarandaBanyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sasori thinks about Deidara as he works on a new puppet, remembering the events that taught him about his partner, that he remembered most about his partner, and the day he fell in love with his partner. But will he make a tragic mistake and loose Deidara, or will he learn to accept his fleeting nature?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Canary

Sasori sat in his puppet workshop and absent-mindedly carved a light piece of wood. Every once in awhile he ran his fingers over it, tracing the grain, and sighed. This was an important part of his new puppet-to-be, but he wasn't worried. He'd made a thousand ones just like it since he took up the craft.

He figured he'd start with something easy on this puppet. The familiarity of the action would soothe his nerves.

When he was nervous, his fingers often twitched a little. Sometimes a little twitch was all that was necessary to make a mistake, and you only need one mistake for a complex undertaking such as this puppet to crash and burn.

He couldn't make any mistakes today.

Sasori always enjoyed it when his puppets presented a bit of a challenge. When something required no effort, it no longer felt like art. And this puppet was to be his masterpiece. So it shouldn't really worry him that he couldn't seem to get this one part just right...

..........................................................................................

" Hey Danna!"

Oh, couldn't that brat shut up for ten seconds? Maybe if he ignored him, that infernal child would give up. Then he could have blessed silence.

"DANNA!"

Or perhaps not.

Was it too much to ask that his partner be capable of behaving himself? For crying out loud, the kid was a trained ninja. A top-notch one too, supposedly, unless Leader-sama was losing his marbles (which was entirely possible). Surely someone had taught him about the virtues of silence? Wasn't it enough that he'd had to put up with having that disgusting pervert of a serpent as a partner? Since that fool had left the Akatsuki after throwing the sociopathic fifty-year-old wanted killer's version of a temper tantrum because he couldn't have the Sharingan, shouldn't Sasori at least get to have a decent partner? Someone quieter? They'd only been partners for seventy-two hours and the brat hadn’t stopped talking even once.

"DANNA!" 

What could be so important that he couldn't wait until he was close enough to say it without shouting?

Fate had to be out to get him. There was no other explanation for the natural disaster that was Deidara.

As soon as he got back to base, he was asking Leader for permission to poison the brat in his sleep. Leader would complain about how hard it would be to replace Deidara but really, ANYONE could replace this idiot. They'd only been partners for three days and the kid had already managed to accidently use Sasori's poison as nail polish, then use up all of Sasori's antidotes for all of his poisons looking for the one for the poison he'd used. Sasori had spent weeks producing that batch! Hours of labor, wasted! Surely that was grounds for Leader-sanctioned slaughter.

"DANNA-DANNA-DANNA-DANNA-DANNA-"

Perhaps he could arrange for Deidara to die in battle. He'd say there was a larger patrol than expected at the Suna border and that Deidara had taken a poisoned kunai to the thigh. Sasori hadn't given him the antidote because Deidara, being the irrational teenager he was, had tried to act tough and had told Sasori he was fine. By the time Deidara was rocking back and forth on the ground and foaming at the mouth there was nothing Sasori could do. Yeah, that could work.

"-DANNA-DANNA-DANNA-DANNA-DANNA-"

The trees around Hiruko were starting to thin out. They must be approaching the Suna border-OH KAMI THAT MEANS THEY STILL HAD SEVENTY MILES TO GO! He didn't think he could go that long without killing that brat-

Sasori’s loathing-session was cut short by two hands latching onto either side of Hiruko's neck and yanking the puppet up off the ground. Shortly after becoming airborne, there was an ear-shattering bang from somewhere behind him. Sasori felt his wooden shell rocking from the aftershock of the explosion. As he fought to steady himself, he mentally cursed his new partner. This had to be his fault, somehow. Everything that had gone wrong since Sasori had laid eyes on him and been that brat's fault. As soon as he was steady, he sent chakra strings to Hiruko's eyes. Perhaps he could get a glimpse of his assaulter.

Just as he had suspected, his discomfort was that idiot's fault.

He had known that Deidara didn't worry much about personal safety, but wasn't hanging upside down from a giant clay bird and lifting a senior S-rank ninja off the ground by the cloak taking that sentiment a bit far? What was that brat thinking?

Once they were clear of the tree tops the brat swung himself back up onto that clay abomination he called art, bringing Hiruko with him, and the wretched thing began gaining altitude.

Scratch the previous statement that Deidara didn't care about personal safety. That kid was suicidal. Why else would he even consider touching Hiruko without permission, much less flying while holding him?

He swung himself up onto the clay bird and pulled out his iciest, most dangerous tone. Something that had senior Sunagakure ANBU agents quivering in their boots.

"And why, might I ask, shouldn't I poison you and watch you writhe in pain as you slowly die in a puddle of blood at my feet?"

"Because then no one would be flying the bird, un!"

"And when we return to the ground?"

"Because I saved your life, un!"

"Funny that you say that. I could have sworn you were the one who endangered it in the first place."

"Nuh-uh, Danna un."

Deidara smirks and turns the bird around in mid air and flies backwards. At first Sasori didn't see what the brat was talking about; he was too busy wrapping as many chakra strings around the bird as possible and hoping he wouldn't tumble off. Only when he was positive he wasn't going to plummet to his death did he look up.

The forest was leveled. Kunai and shuriken and bodies sprinkled the ground. A huge crater bloomed where there had once been a small clearing. Smoke was still rising from it's center.

How had he not noticed so many hostile ninja?

"They were all waiting under the ground Danna, where you didn't expect them. They were using the rock bank to shield their chakra. Good thing I saw the ground moving behind you, un."

He almost manages to say something intelligent, but is cut off by yet another dangerous u-turn and puts his energy into not letting himself become a casualty of Deidara's reckless driving.

Over the course of this (in his opinion, completely unnecessary) flight, Sasori grew to be very familiar with the sensation of motion sickness, and he spent the next hour or so staring straight ahead and not looking down. When he demanded they land, the brat just smirked and claimed that they'd reach Suna faster this way. While Sasori acknowledged that they'd get there faster, he expressed concern that they wouldn't arrive in one piece.

Perhaps 'expressed concern' was too nice a phrase for the damage he did to his partner's eardrums.

The most vexing thing of all was that Deidara seemed not to experience any of the difficulties Sasori did while airborne. With every dip and acceleration his legs made small movements to compensate. He seemed to have a magical ability to balance on the clay without any effort at all.

Deidara had to be doing that just to be annoying.

..........................................................................................

Sasori smiled a bit as he remembered. He never did thank Deidara for saving him. Oh well. Too late now. Deidara probably didn't even remember it, it was so long ago.

His slight smile faded. The wood in his hand was too tough- not lithe and flexible enough. It was all wrong- it wouldn't balance with a dancer's grace like he needed it to; it would be a miracle if the new puppet managed to stay upright at all. No, he needed to start all over again. If he added this little adjustment part now, he could do irreparable damage to the leg muscles. With past puppets, this hadn't been a concern, so he'd thought he could reuse the design this time around. But he should have known it wouldn't be that simple.

This puppet wouldn't be like all those other puppets. This one would pass as a human, so close that even a ninja couldn't detect the difference. This one had to be seamless, specifically proportioned, human enough that Sasori could forget it was a puppet just like the ones in the scrolls latched to his back.

This was a special puppet. He couldn't make stupid misjudgments like this.

He only got one chance with this one.

But search as he might, there was no wood that fit his purposes in his workshop at the moment. Oh well. It wouldn't be the end of the world if he worked on the legs tomorrow. He had all the time in the world, after all. Impatience would only be repaid with more mess-ups. Speed was not the objective here.

He couldn't afford mistakes. Not this time.

He'd just have to work on another part for now.

But which part? He still had plenty of time until the sedative wore off, but not enough to do too large a part of the body. So he'd have to do something relatively small. A hand, perhaps? A hand would be tricky, but it would significantly further this little operation of his.

Yes, he'd start on the left hand.

He'd take his time on this puppet. It would be his pride and joy, a rival even to his own body.

It would be special and it would last forever at his side.

..........................................................................................

Cold, empty stone walls. Thin shafts of light like discarded swords on the floor cast by the bars on the door. Bars like teeth. This place wanted to swallow him and his partner up, let Deidara die in the darkness and hold Sasori's immortal body for eternity. For while this prison is not art, it was crafted from stone and would last forever.

They'd been caught. The shinobi here were better than expected, and had no intention of giving up the scroll Leader-sama wanted.

Ninja prisons are no place for the feeble-hearted. They had excellent acoustics, so when captured criminals and spies were tortured, the screams echoed through the entire prison for minutes after they ended. They were rank, and often quite wet. Moss grew out of red water and made the cell floors dangerously slippery. The only lights came from candles brought down by guards and interrogators. There were rats with glowing red eyes and large, bone-white teeth who had grown bold over the years, bold enough not to wait for a prisoner to die to begin the feast of their flesh. And you couldn't get away from them; prisoners were disarmed and restrained with chakra-draining chains.

Deidara seemed rather upbeat about the whole thing.

"Don't worry, Danna, un! I've got a plan!"

"Rather like your 'plan' that got us in here in the first place?"

"Trust me, un. All we've got to do is get them to drop their guard a bit, un."

He lets his forehead fall into his palm. There is a wood-on-wood smack that echoes off the walls back at him again and again, taunting him. Trusting his partner-ha! He already tried that, and look at all the good that did! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Let their guard down? LET THEIR GUARD DOWN? You idiot, they may not know we're Akatsuki, but they would have to be dumb, deaf, and blind not to see how dangerous we are. One, we showed up in the middle of their village, having walked right past their sentries without alerting them. Two, they know we're after the scroll- by now they may have realized that the one they have is a fake, and the real one's in Hiruko. Three, we weren't exactly disguising our chakra. They know we're powerful. Now tell me, would you let your guard down around two powerful, hostile ninja who wanted to take something important to your entire village?"

"No."

Finally, the brat sees sense.

"But they will, un!"

He spoke too soon.

TAP!-Tap-tap-tap-tap... TAP!-Tap-tap-tap-tap...

Footsteps. Their interrogators were already here. This wasn't good.

First would come the questions, then the threats, then the pain. Unless Sasori could think of a way out of this that the useless brat couldn't possibly screw up.

C-r-e-a-k.

The bars of light crowd together and disappear. One large stream of light comes through the door, shining around the silhouette of a tall, muscular shinobi with a fearsome scar through one eye and a menacing air. The silhouette growls softly, like a pit bull. He takes his time walking over to the duo, aggression and violence clear in his stance. He pulls up a stool and sits down in front of Deidara. Both fists are wrapped in a sort of metal glove with spikes decorating each knuckle.

"Listen up. I'm going to ask you some questions, one at a time. Give me any trouble, and I'll start ripping your nails off. You first, blondie."

Deidara sat up and turned around to face the interrogator, letting his left hand rest behind his back and his right hand rest in his lap.

"Why were you after our sacred scroll?"

"I like your shirt. Where'd you get it?"

The man's eye twitched. "Why were you after our sacred scroll?"

"You have a sacred scroll, un? Wow! I heard about a village that had one of those in a story once, un!" Deidara's face lit up comically, then fell. "I don't remember what the story was about, un. But it was a really cool story, un!"

The hand-mouth behind Deidara's back smirked knowingly at Sasori. So this was his plan; play dumb blonde. Or, in his partner's case, dumber blond. How would this get them out of here, though? The brat was just angering their interrogator.

Sure enough, the burly man casually slammed a metal-clad fist into Deidara’s throat, knocking his whole head backwards.

The interrogator snarled. "Don't you try to play with me! We know you and your friend here were after it!"

Deidara slumped and sighed as though in defeat. However, the hand-mouth facing Sasori chuckled silently.

"I heard that that scroll had some really important secret stuff on it, un," he muttered.

The burly shinobi sneered, relaxing a bit. This was starting to go the way he wanted.

"What exactly did you hear about it?"

"I heard it was a record of all the pay checks doled out for the past year.”

The hand mouth continued to smirk at Sasori.

"Funny, how little the interrogation staff was paid compared to everyone else. Even the secretaries make more than you guys, un.”

The interrogator looked irritated. Sasori wondered briefly if the man even knew precisely what was on that scroll. Did that man believe Deidara? Probably not. But was he letting his guard down? He glanced at the shinobi out of the corner of his eyes. Sure enough, his posture was slowly relaxing. He didn't seem to see Deidara as a threat. Could his partner's plan, whatever it was, actually have a chance of working?

The interrogator leaned forward. "Let's try another question. What ninja village are you from?"

"I'm not from a ninja village, un. I don't even work out- my hair would get all sweaty and gross, un. But I am a ninja, un!" Deidara summoned a smile so saccharine and stupid to his face, Sasori himself would have been fooled into thinking he wasn’t a threat.

"If everything you say is true, then you couldn't possibly be a ninja!"

"Did you see that, un?" Deidara twitched, but clearly didn’t move from where he was seated.

"See what?"

"Precisely, un! I'm such a good ninja you can't even follow me with your eyes, un!"

The hand-mouths were shaking with laughter now. Good thing those things could only make primitive sounds, like grunts. If they could laugh, Deidara's plan would be ruined.

The interrogator was red with fury now. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a kunai. "You're crazy, blondie. But don’t worry; you’re in good company. Such a shame, what I’m gonna have to do to that pretty face of yours."

The man threw the kunai right at Deidara's face.

Bad move.

Deidara whipped his head to one side and caught the kunai in his mouth. Before their interrogator could realize his mistake, Deidara stood and charged the man and raked the blade across his throat.

"These chains are longer than you think, un. You really should be more careful. Hey Danna! Help me search him! He should have the keys on him somewhere, un!"

..........................................................................................

A small smile graced the puppet master's features as he remembered Deidara's hand-mouths soundlessly laughing in that prison. It was about then that he had begun to realize that his partner wasn't quite as utterly useless as he'd originally thought. It was one of his more treasured memories.

He turned his attention to the hand he was modifying now. The sedative was starting to wear off, and the poor shinobi on his operating table was starting to twitch. He'd have to inject some more paralyzers before he got to work on this vital body part. Those hand's didn't just move, they flexed, cupped, lay flat. The fingers twitched, curled, stretched, shaped. This hand was a delicate operation. Sasori's fingers moved at a snail's pace in an attempt to minimize the number of mistakes he'd have to come back and fix. He couldn't have his puppet-to-be squirming.

He only had one shot this time around.

Maybe he'd do the eyes for now, and save the hand for later. He could be sure of what he'd do with the eyes- since this shinobi had no ocular talents, he'd gorge them out and replace them with chakra-filled stones and paint them. No surprises there. No complex muscles and joints to remake just so. No need to re-sedate just yet.

..........................................................................................

Sasori no longer slept, at least not in the conventional sense of the word. His artificial body did not tire, and he no longer had a brain that could dream. Every once in awhile, he'd rest and give his chakra stores a chance to replenish themselves, but only every few days or so.

Deidara, on the other hand, seemed to sleep all the time. Not only did he devote a third or more of each day to the activity, but when Sasori woke him in the morning, he actually wanted to sleep some more! He couldn't even sleep discreetly-his right hand drooled, he occasionally talked in his sleep, he thrashed and rolled over while in dreamland and always woke sprawled spread-eagle and halfway off the bed, bleary-eyed and clearly ready to go right back to sleep. 

So when Sasori looked up from his work one night while on a mission in the Land of Snow and saw Deidara's bed empty and neatly made, he immediately suspected something was wrong. He rested his hand on the empty sheets. While his wooden fingers could no longer discern heat or cold, his chakra could. The sheets were frigid. More concerned now, Sasori cast his chakra around, searching for Deidara's signature. It took a minute or two, but he eventually found his partner's chakra coming from the snow-laden forest to the north of their camp. The brat seemed to be a couple of miles away. Sasori glanced up at the moon. It hadn't risen too long ago; he still had time to track that brat down before midnight.

Who knew what kind of trouble the brat would manage to get into while unsupervised.

Hiruko had been hit that day with something powerful and explosive at the border of Snow and Earth. Sasori had originally suspected Deidara, but quickly decided against it. This was too... unrefined to be his partner. More likely it was some type of chakra-enhanced exploding tag. The puppet held up well, but the joint where the top and bottom halves of one of the back legs was melted by the heat of the explosion. Until he fixed the back leg joint, he would have to walk around in his main puppet body and try not to be seen by anyone but Deidara.

Stupid brat. Taking off now of all times.

Deidara had left footprints behind in the light covering of snow blanketing the path. He obviously didn't care if he was followed. How did he ever get into the Akatsuki when he was so lax with personal security? Honestly, the way he behaved, that brat should have been caught and slain by now.

What could the brat possibly be doing out here so late? He wasn't practicing his 'art;' Sasori was fairly confident he would have seen something by now if that was the case. Deidara knew nothing of subtlety.

The rough path he'd been following began to slope upwards gently. It looked like a clearing was coming up, and the brat's chakra was getting stronger. The brat had better have a good reason for wandering off when Sasori caught up with him. Not that he was worried about his partner. He just wanted to avoid the possibility of having to replace him with another Orochimaru. Even Deidara was a step up from that creep. Deidara sometimes made some effort to appreciate Sasori's art. That was more than snake-man ever did. Deidara didn't conduct himself like a child molester. Deidara didn't insist on carrying out disgusting and often lengthy experiments in their shared room. Sasori didn't have to hide his true form from Deidara for fear of being a subject of one such experiment. He could accept food and drink from Deidara without checking for "extra ingredients."

But that didn't make Deidara some kind of saint. It just meant Orochimaru had been a particularly abysmal partner.

If he were to be honest, though, he would take the brat over pretty much anyone else in this crackpot organization. He and Itachi were too similar-cold and ruthless and easily ticked off. One of them would be dead within a week in each other's company. Kisame couldn't appreciate his art, and didn't know enough about the subject to at least provide intelligent discourse. Kakuzu would probably try to restrict the amount of materials he bought each month for his puppets. Hidan was course, profane, messy, inartistic and unintelligent. Zetsu, he knew, ate in his room and was unable to keep it blood-and-guts-free for any period of time. And he'd have to put up with that Tobi kid he always had with him to boot. If he had Konan for a partner, he'd have to endure Leader always breathing down his neck, making sure nothing happened to his girlfriend. Compared with these possibilities, Deidara was an ideal partner.

The path rose a little more steeply. Sasori could clearly see where the trees gave way to a clearing. A lone shadow shaped vaguely like Deidara sat on a rock near the center of the clearing. He didn't appear to be doing anything in particular, just staring up at the stars.

It was only after he had met Deidara that he had begun to wish he understood humans better. He knew their physical parts intimately and how to manipulate them, but the innermost workings of their minds were beyond his understanding. Since trading away his flesh for everlasting wood, he'd only worked closely with the perverse Orochimaru, who could be called human only in the loosest possible sense; he had two eyes, two legs and arms, a humanoid shape, was born to two other humans and, despite his aspirations and delusions, would one day prove to be mortal. The inner complexities of Orochimaru were unique to Orochimaru, and what made him tick couldn't be applied to Deidara.

But he'd been partners with that man for over a decade. Perhaps when he'd been with Deidara as long, he'd understand him like he understood the Sannin.

Perhaps Deidara would stick around a little longer than Orochimaru. After all, he'd already proven that it took more than a city-leveling explosion to take him down.

He now found himself at the edge of Deidara's little clearing. The open ground here was stonier and harder than the covered ground in the forest, and a brittle layer of frost lay like fairy dust over the earth.

He stood there at the edge of the clearing for several moments, watching Deidara watch the sky. He'd never seen his partner sit so still for so long. It was almost like his fellow artist had learned patience.

Eventually, Deidara turned around.

"Well, aren't you going to join me, un?"

Sasori hesitated a few seconds before starting forward. "What are you doing out here, brat? It's cold and late. We have a long day tomorrow. You'll need to get up at a reasonable hour.

Deidara scooted over on his rock and patted the space next to him. "Waiting, un."

Sasori sighed and sat down next to the youth. "Waiting for what?"

"Art, un."

"Art doesn't fall from the sky, brat."

"It will tonight, un!"

Sasori sighed again. "And who will be making this art?"

"No one, un."

"You're being ridiculous, brat. Art needs an artist."

"Not always, un."

"Art is not art if there is no intention behind it, Deidara, and intention comes from an artist. True and unperishing art needs a powerful will to shape it and a mind to focus that will."

"You're wrong there, Danna, un. Art is something brief and bright and spontaneous that gives those who can enjoy it a moment of precious happiness before it's gone. You don't necessarily need a person to create that, un. An artist partakes in art, un. They are not the source of it."

Sasori growled at Deidara and made to rebut his argument but was cut off when Deidara thrust a hand over his wooden mouth. Sasori narrowed his eyes and glared at his partner. He slowly raised his hand in a threatening gesture at Deidara. The brat, however, pointed at the sky and whispered, "Just watch, Danna un!" Sasori stared pointedly down at Deidara's hand, obstinately keeping his gaze away from the night sky. His partner rolled his eyes and removed his hand from Sasori's face.

"Happy, Danna?"

"Very. Now can we go back to camp?"

"Just wait another minute of two, un."

Suddenly, the sky exploded in a burst of color. Night shadows recoiled, and Sasori could almost swear it was morning and the night had passed in the blink of an eye. Colored lights flickered across the starry sky like banners.

"They're called Northern Lights, un. Aren't they beautiful?"

Sasori turned and looked at his partner. He had an exuberant smile on his face, and the shimmering trails of light above them reflected off his wide eyes. In that moment, looking up at the illuminated sky, Deidara was glorious. A slightly-deranged angel.

"This is art, un."

..........................................................................................

Sasori shuddered. He shouldn't be thinking these things-they served only as distractions.

The figure on the reinforced steel operating table began to squirm more violently. Loud curses were beginning to escape the gag. He'd have to re-sedate them before they brought any unwanted attention to his workshop. It was unlikely they could manage to scream loud enough through the cloth for that to happen, but who knows? That Itachi had scary hearing.

He set his carving knife on a low table and rose to find another dose of sedative. The glass container half-full of the nasty-looking black fluid was hidden inside the wooden forms of his parents. Sasori felt it prudent to hide his more potent drugs in case another Akatsuki member decided to help themselves while Sasori was away. And this particular drug was nothing if not potent. A couple of milliliters of this stuff would send anyone into a state of near-coma catatonia that wouldn't relent for several several days.

Sasori had given his newest victim about a milliliter yesterday. He had hoped he would be done before he needed to administer another dose, but it seemed he had spent more time than he originally thought covering his tracks. Or perhaps it was these pesky memories that kept surfacing when he needed to concentrate...

No matter. He'd just administer another dose and get back to work. He still had half a gallon of this stuff. He could keep this puppet-to-be sedated for over two years if need be.

A few minutes later he had a freshly-cleaned syringe loaded with a milliliter of sedative in hand. The unfortunate young man on the operating table was struggling more forcefully now, and if it hadn't been for the chakra-repressing chains and Sasori's thorough weapons search, he would have managed to get free by now. As it was the operating table was wobbling dangerously back and forth. If the young man could tip over the table, he'd have a reinforced steel shield for his back and would be able to wriggle to the door. It was locked, but what was a locked door against a steel battering ram? Sasori allowed himself a moment to smile at the young man. He had so much fight in him, such fire! He'd have to be careful to preserve that fighter's spirit when he made him into a living puppet.

He slowly walked towards the operating table, syringe weighing heavily in his hand. The young man caught sight of it and redoubled his efforts to capsize the table.

He struggled in vain. This was Sasori the Puppet Master's private workshop. Many went in, and none came out alive. What made this young man any different?

A wooden finger flicked and suddenly six puppets were gathered around the operating table. Another flick and a pair of arms like vices snapped down on each leg, arm, the neck and torso.

The table stopped shaking.

Sasori drew nearer.

A single tear gathered at the bottom of a bright blue eye, quivered, and rushed down his cheek.

..........................................................................................

It was raining, and Sasori was grumpy.

The scorpion never liked the rain. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't so wet. Excess water was just what his beautiful puppets didn't need. Rusty hinges, rotten wood, moss growth- any number of unacceptable consequences if Sasori didn't spend several hours when he returned to the base tending to the water-logged wood. The only good thing about Suna had been that it didn't rain nearly as often as it did here.

Deidara had no problems with the rain, however, and often walked a several paces ahead of Sasori whenever the inky clouds spilled across the horizon.

Sasori wasn't sure what Deidara liked about the rain. If the brat stayed out in it too long, he grew cold and ran the risk of running a fever later. It took forever for his clothes to drip-dry (Kakuzu claimed a dryer was unnecessary.) Waterlogged wood wouldn't catch fire and if his explosive clay got too wet, it became about as useful as wet gunpowder. The sound of rain on the roof robbed him of his sleep at night. Sasori couldn't seem to puzzle it out, no matter how hard he tried. Rain had no upsides that he could think of, yet the brat made a point of always going outside for at least a few minutes whenever it started to pour.

They were returning from a mission in the land of fire, and were only a few miles from the base when the first drops started falling.

Sasori had sped up a little, but there was no way he could beat the rain. Before he knew it the ground was more mud than grass and Deidara had advanced a little ahead as per usual.

Thunder boomed in the distance, and the drops began to fall faster and thicker. The wind picked up and began howling at them from the East. Stray breezes played with Deidara's long, damp hair, lifting it from his scalp and whipping it around.

Thunder again, closer this time. A burst of light glowed through the clouds several miles away like a lantern in the fog. Sasori glared at the sky, just daring it to come this way. The base was still about three miles away, and Sasori had no intention of getting caught in a lightning storm.

Not even Akasuna no Sasori could tell Mother Nature what to do, however. Sure enough, the lightning strikes grew steadily closer and closer to him and Deidara.

He glanced ahead at his partner. True to form, that brat wasn't speeding up like he should be, but had actually stopped to twirl in the water. His wet hair twirled along behind him, fanning out and tangling in the wind. He didn't seem the least bit concerned about the oncoming lightning or the goosebumps popping up all over his arms. He just stood there twirling and laughing. It had been quite some time ago that Sasori had admitted that his partner was far from the useless idiot he had first taken him for, but he still wondered just how Deidara managed to keep up with Sasori and act like a ditz at the same time.

Oh well. It wasn't Sasori's fault if Deidara got sick because he was too stupid to stay out of the rain.

Thunder again.

Deidara had been standing there laughing and twirling for awhile and Sasori was catching up to him. Now that he was closer he could see that individual hairs were sticking straight up in the air, different strands separating from each other as he twirled. Perhaps he shouldn't be doing that-

Sizzle-BOOM!

He had just enough time to see the air seemingly catch fire before Hiruko was flung several feet backwards. It took him several seconds to direct Hiruko back onto it's feet and to Deidara's side.

The ground around the bomber was the color of the clouds above them, and Deidara's hair was sticking straight up. A light tendril of smoke rose from the blackened ends of his hair. He'd been thrown to the ground as well, but had landed in a cushioning mud puddle. The lightning had apparently passed through Deidara and into the ground.

He temporarily forgot just how much he hated doing water-damage-control on his own body and clambered out of Hiruko to lay a finger against the brat's lips to check for breath. Sure enough, the lips were parted and air hissed in and out. Assured that his partner wasn't dead, he slapped the blonde's cheek hard enough to leave a red mark.

Deidara's eyelids fluttered momentarily, then snapped open.

"Brat, don't you know how brainless it is to stand around in the open during a lightning storm? What was going through your head?"

"That was art, un."

"Absolutely nothing, I see. I shouldn't have expected anything else."

Deidara laughed and leaned his face back to catch the rain. The rain washed the singed ends of his eyelashes and the wind blew the wisp of smoke out of his eyes.

Sasori stood and headed for Hiruko, muttering under his breath about airhead brats. He crawled inside the over-sized puppet and groaned at the thought of all the time he'd have to put into drying Hiruko out.

"Come on, brat. We'd best get to the base before you get hit again."

Deidara nodded and shakily stood. Sasori took one look at his stance and had a sinking feeling about making anything near decent time back to the base. The brat was wobbling as he walked.

A silver cable slunk along the muddy ground and wrapped around his ankle. Once secure, it retracted and dragged Deidara kicking and cursing inside Hiruko. Sasori ignored him completely, forcing him to sit next to him.

"Danna! What are you-"

"I'm going to have to clean and dry this thing when I get back to the base anyway, so a little more mud won't matter. Besides, you’ll slow us down."

"I was not-"

"Brat, you were just hit by lightning. You have a perfectly good excuse for not going as fast as I'd like. Now sit down and shut up."

Deidara still looked miffed, but he seemed willing to let it slide.

"How long does it take you to dry this thing out, un?"

"Hours."

"So that's why the rain always makes you so grouchy, un. But didn't you get monsoons in Suna, un?"

"Once a year."

"Why don't you just make waterproof puppets, un?"

"I'm working on it. It's hard to make something both waterproof and fast without going way out of your way to get extra materials."

"Ever tried waterproof paint, un?"

"Chips too easily."

For a few minutes, the two just sat and listened to the rain on Hiruko's back. They had almost reached the base, and both would have some task to attend to once they got there. As the rain pitter-pattered away, Sasori played back the image of Deidara twirling and laughing with his face upturned.

"Why do you love the rain so much, brat?"

"It's the only acceptable time to cry, un."

Whatever Sasori had been expecting, it wasn't that. This was Deidara, the indestructible brat. The one who never cried or screamed when Sasori managed to slip agony-inducing poisons into his drink, the one who had gazed at countless dead bodies with a straight face, the one who was always either bored, satisfied, exited, angry, or argumentative, but never sad. Deidara, who stood up to all of Sasori's taunts and jabs. Deidara, whose eyes remained dry even when a strong wind buffeted his face or smoke wafted into his eyes. Deidara, who laughed after getting struck by lightning. Deidara never cried and never would cry.

"What did you say?"

"It's the only acceptable time to cry, un. When it rains, everyone has water on their faces, so what difference does a few more drops make? You can't cry when someone dies or when you're hurt, because shinobi never cry. Rule number 25: A shinobi must never show emotion. 'Soldiers never cry,' I believe the saying is, un. Do you see these," he raised a finger to his cheek. "It's a custom in Iwa to give these to children who will be shinobi one day."

At first, Sasori didn't see anything. Deidara was pointing at an unblemished, perfectly normal cheek. Wait a second- no, not perfectly unblemished. Right above Deidara's finger was a tiny line of lighter-colored skin than the rest of his cheek. Now that he was looking, there were more than one- perhaps four or five per cheek. Whatever it was that was being pointed out, it had long since healed.

"You make a few small incisions in the cheek and don't treat them, un. If a child cries, the salt in the tears irritates and sometimes infects the cut. If you cry a lot, your face will always be puffy and red, and the cuts will heal ugly and raised. So you just don't cry, un. But in the rain? That water isn't salty, and it won't irritate anything. The water will wash the tears right off you before the salt can get on the cut, un. Crying is a good way to let emotions out, un. It's unhealthy to keep them all bottled up. So why not cry in the rain?"

..........................................................................................

Sasori paused at the side of the operating table. Blonde hair splayed out from the struggling puppet-to-be and rested against his hand.

..........................................................................................

The ground beneath their feet was as hot as the bottom of a frying pan on a stove. The sun seemed a little closer than was normal, a little brighter than it should be. Just walking from one end of Suna to the other was sure to give you a headache. All of the hospitals were on high alert for cases of heatstroke. Steam seemed to rise from the ground. Walking on the sand just outside the village was like walking across smoldering coals. Children cracked eggs against the sidewalk to see if they could fry them on it. Everyone who could was in the shade of their homes with a glass of water and some ice.

It was not a good day to be wearing a black Akatsuki cloak.

Sasori and Deidara were going incognito in white, loose cotton clothes like the rest of Suna's population, clothes and black under-shirts discarded and hidden inside Hiruko. Yes, they were supposed to wear them at all times, but what Leader didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, had he been here, Leader would probably be doing the exact same thing they were.

Sasori was faring far better in this heat than his partner, but eventually even he needed to get out of the sun. His wooden face was actually being bleached by the direct sunlight, and it would blow their cover entirely if someone saw a redhead with a bleached-wood, unburned face.

He had pulled Deidara into a little restaurant near the outskirts of town that he recognized from his childhood. Amazing that it hadn't gone out of business, but it suited their purposes. It had sunshades erected to keep the sun from shining in through the windows, and private booths inside. It wasn't a very busy time of day, so there weren't many people here who might recognize Sasori.

A young waitress appeared at beside their table with menus. Deidara was on them in an instant. He hadn't woken up early enough this morning and so had skipped breakfast. The intense heat had only made him hungrier.

However, withing seconds of picking up the menu, the excited smile fell from his face.

"Danna, un, what here has fruit and lots of meat?"

"Nothing, brat. This is a traditional restaurant."

"But I don't recognize anything but that god-awful bug-appetizer-sauce-thing you made me eat once because you thought it was good for me! And the only thing I recognize to drink is water, un!

"It is good for you, brat!"

"Nuh-uh, Danna, un. I was sick all night after I ate that thing, un!"

"That was because you ate your weight in chocolate for dessert!"

"Did not, un!"

He sighed, and put his head in his hands. "Look, brat, I'll make this easy for both of use and just order for you. When the lady comes back, I'll ask for 'Vars lig-gebraaide sprinkaan met pittige kruie' to eat and 'swart te" to drink."

"What's swart te, un?"

"It's kind of like tea."

"Well what's that other stuff, un?"

"The closest you're going to get to meat around here."

The blonde brat never was very good at being patient. When the waitress didn't come the second he was ready, he quickly got bored. A bored Deidara was not a good thing.

He started by annoying other patrons. Not long after they had arrived, a young lady had been seated in the booth adjacent to theirs. Deidara had turned around and stared at her food intently. At first, she didn't seem to notice. Then, she snuck glances at their table. She started to fidget, and checked her clothing over to see if she had something on her shirt. After about twenty minutes, she finally turned around and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Oh, don't mind me, un. I'm just looking for the food that flew out of my mouth. My partner here," He gestured to Sasori, "made me laugh, and I accidently spit something. I'm trying to figure out where it landed." The lady gasped and started searching her plate and her lap. When her back was turned, Deidara ducked back out of view, chuckling under his breath.

"Brat, stop drawing attention to us. I don't want us to be recognized."

"Don't worry, Danna! Even if someone did recognize you, they wouldn't try anything, un. It's too hot."

Sasori had had an appropriately scathing remark ready, but was interrupted by the return of their waitress with drinks while they waited. "Sir," she turned to Deidara, "we normally serve our drink piping hot, but we figured you wouldn't appreciate it on a day such as today, so we are serving it iced. I hope you have no problems with this?"

"It's fine, un. Thanks!"

"So what may I bring for you today?"

"My partner will have Vars lig-gebraaide sprinkaan met pittige kruie and swart te to drink. I will just have tea, thank you."

"What kind of tea, sir?"

"Surprise me."

The waitress bowed and hurried away with her serving tray.

Deidara immediately gulped down as much of the cool drink he had been given as he could force into his mouth, slurping loudly. The glass was empty when he set it back down on the table. Sasori rolled his eyes and pushed his glass across the table. "It's not like I can drink it, brat. Try to make this one last."

"Thank you Danna un!"

"Just don't waste it. That waitress probably won't be back for awhile."

As it turned out, he was wrong. While this restaurant may have done roaring business back when Sasori was five and came here with his parents, it had been thirty years since he was that old. Not many people frequented this place anymore, and those who did mostly came for dinner, as not quite everyone had forgotten how good the soup was. The waitress was back within five minutes, tray in hand and their meals perfectly prepared. Right on time, too. Deidara had just polished off Sasori's drink and already wanted more.

The plate had not quite touched the table when Deidara started picking pieces of meat of the plate and shoveling them into his mouth. The waitress, a little disgruntled at the lack of proper table etiquette, turned and hurried off, and so wasn't there to be insulted when Deidara spat what he had just eaten back onto his plate.

"Oh god, Danna! What is this, un? It's crunchy and spicy and the center is too soft, un. It's disgusting!"

"It's made from locusts and ground chili peppers. The locusts are put live into a pot of water saturated with chili pepper pieces and cooked until the center liquefies, but not enough to actually cook the meat. The exoskeleton is left in place, and the outer meat is raw. This particular restaurant serves them with diced earthworms as well."

Deidara's eyes widened in horror, and he snatched his drink up and started trying to wash the remnants of the meat out of his mouth. Unfortunately, he didn't like this drink nearly as much as he liked the cool beverage he'd had before. This was thick and viscous and slid down his throat in clumps. Deidara turned green after the first swallow.

"You said this was like tea, un!"

"It is. You make it by putting herbs in boiling water. This just a few more herbs involved."

"It's like I'm drinking mud, un!"

"Shut up and eat your lunch."

Deidara glared at the puppet master. "You purposefully ordered disgusting stuff, didn't you Danna un?"

"They're good for you."

..........................................................................................

Sasori reached out to wipe the shinobi’s tear away.

He had to do this. He couldn't let himself be distracted.

..........................................................................................

Sasori was standing beneath Deidara, watching him soar through battle, a god of victory with fiery wings that burned any ninja foolish enough to try to stop him. Sasori didn't even need to lift a finger to help him- his partner had this one covered.

Deidara was untouchable like this. In his element. Laughing in wild, unrestrained whoops, eyes wide and happy when a kunai managed to brush him, like his ruby blood was a concession of the enemy. Like his being hurt just made this even better.

The feeling that welled up in Sasori's chest as he watched was dangerously close to love.

..........................................................................................

Sasori gritted his teeth and raised his hand.

..........................................................................................

Sasori's fist flew into the wall, cracking it. His tightly curled fingers quivered as they rested against the stone.

Curse that blonde! Curse him for being crazy enough to revive a dead heart! Curse him for not seeing the wonders of eternal existence! Curse him for his art, his 'fleeting' nature, his recklessness with his own life! Curse him for being so accepting of death!

Curse himself for not being able to let him go.

..........................................................................................

Sasori lined the needle up with the vein. His victim struggled even harder, fueled by desperation.

..........................................................................................

"Danna!"

"What is it, brat?" Couldn't that brat pester him at some time other than three thirty in the morning, on one of the few nights when he needed to replenish his chakra? What could he possibly want?

"It's storming outside, un. Thunder and lightning and rain and everything, un!"

"What's your point?"

"Well, since you forbid me from going outside during lightning storms after last time, I thought we could take advantage of the weather some other way, un!"

Sasori rubbed his eyes and looked at his partner. Deidara had lit a dozen candles, and was sitting on a pillow on the floor. "Lets tell scary stories, un!"

Sasori sighed and rolled out of bed. Had it been anyone else, he would have said no. But ever since he'd come to terms with loving his partner, it had gotten harder to say no to him. And besides- Deidara was a member of the Akatsuki, and so was mentally unstable by default. Perhaps this little story-telling session of theirs could actually be fun...

After all, telling scary stories is best when the story teller has a twisted creativity with the art.

"Okay, Deidara. But only because we won't be getting another mission for awhile."

"Thank you, Danna un!"

"Why don't you start, brat, seeing as this was your idea." Immediately the brat was off and running, diving right into a story. Sasori smirked. He had been right; Deidara was good at this.

How could he bear to let such a special person leave him when he had the power to make Deidara eternal like himself? Someone unconventionally beautiful, someone just insane enough to make someone like Sasori love him?

He couldn't. He hadn't loved in over twenty years and he wasn't going to give up the first person who got close to him up just because that person was being stupid. He'd just have to show him that his Danna was always right.

He didn’t necessarily need to kill someone to make them into a puppet- look at Sasori himself!

..........................................................................................

Sasori looked up one last time to gaze at his Deidara, bound to the operating table, thrashing and cursing through the gag. More tears had begun to stream down his face. Why now, of all times, did that brat have to turn on the waterworks? What happened to 'soldiers never cry?'

Individual words were starting to get through the gag. He could hear Deidara cursing his name, trying to get free... but not begging for mercy. Not trying to reason with him.

Oh, but of course. This was Deidara, not one of those simpering Konoha shinobi who thought that everyone was redeemable and believed in mercy. Deidara believed in fighting your way out. Why should he ask Sasori, the very person who had tied him down to the operating table and drugged him and was about to turn him into a puppet, for mercy?

Suddenly, those pale blue eyes latched onto his.

The tears had stopped, and Deidara's eyes were no longer desperate. These were daring, defiant eyes that gazed back at him. Slowly, deliberately, Deidara bit down on his own tongue.

Blood immediately bubbled up between his teeth, and slipped out his mouth, staining the gag. Most of it began to slide down his throat, giving him the opportunity to choke him himself.

He would be dead in minutes.

Sasori didn't think, he just acted. He forced Deidara's head forward and ripped the gag out of his mouth, letting the blood trickle out and clear his windpipe. He snatched some of his gauze and wrapped it around the end of Deidara's tongue to stanch the bleeding. As soon as Deidara wasn't in danger, he unlocked the restraints and clutched Deidara to his chest, caging him there with his stomach cable.

"So you're so cruel that you won't even let me die, un? So cruel that you must force my soul to be eternally tethered here, un?"

"You'd learn to like it. You wouldn't be just another one of my other puppets, you'd be like me."

"I'd hate you forever, Danna un."

"Not forever, just in the beginning. You'd eventually realize I was right-"

"No Danna. I am not meant to be eternal. You are, and only you, un."

"But I want you to stay with me."

"Why would you want that, Danna un?"

"BECAUSE I DON"T WANT TO LOOSE YOU!" Sasori punched the floor, splintering it, and sent his own puppets flying. Shelves collapsed and poison vials shattered over the floor. Sasori raised his hands over his head and brought them down again, cracking the floor again, his finger movements unwittingly shaking the chakra strings connecting his puppets to him, causing his art began to whirl around the room, destroying his studio, the room in which they had been made. It was childish, and didn't accomplish anything, but he was so angry! Why did he have to fall in love with Deidara? Why?

When he finally stopped, it was because a strong pair of arms were restraining him.

"Danna, un? Are you listening to me, un?

"Why can't you stay with me? Why can't you let me save you from death?"

"I'm not like that, un, and I never will be."

Sasori could feel his heart shredding itself inside its canister, shattering beyond what his puppet skills could fix.

"However, I will stay with you, Danna. It's not like I'm going to jump off a bridge tomorrow, un."

"I'll never be able to let you go."

"Someday you will, un. It's part of who I am."

Could he? Could he let Deidara go someday? He didn't know. It sounded too painful. But he would be a fool to tell Deidara so.

Hesitantly, he reached out to pull the blonde to him again, caging him like a canary against his chest. He let his face fall into Deidara's hair and let himself fall back into those old memories that had haunted him since he had begun work on Deidara.

Had he succeeded in turning Deidara into a puppet, would he still get that victorious look in his eyes as he flew from the burning battlefield? Would he still have that spark of life in him? Would he still be Deidara?

No.

He was the one who fell in love with something temporary. The statue that fell in love with a ray of sun. No, Deidara would last longer than a sunbeam. He couldn't think like that. He had to hold Deidara to himself and learn to love the parts he wished he could change.

Someday, this canary was going to fly away. So he might as well make every moment count.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slightly edited version of a story I posted a while ago on FF.net and DeviantArt, so if you see an almost-identical version of this floating around, that's why.


End file.
